We are wildhorse. We are a wife, mother, co-facilitator of CUPP of Hope drop in support group and a survivor of RA/MC. We like horses, dogs, trees, sparkly things, blankets, music, writing, and doing art. We especially like being in and feeling the warmth of the sun.
WHAT DOES IT FEEL LIKE TO BE A SURVIVOR OF EXTREME ABUSE…
It feels like riding a roller coaster when you are terrified of heights
It feels like eating a seafood dinner when you have the flu
It feels like running the last leg of a marathon carrying a 50lb backpack
It feels like walking on a beautiful path in the woods and having a black bear with her cub step out on the path
It feels like trying to communicate in a foreign land when you don’t know the language
It feels like a child who just flunked a math test
It feels like being lost and alone in an underground cavern
It feels like a foster child who has been returned to the agency once again
It feels like being humiliated in a room full of high schoolers
It feels like being a mother of a young child that is lost in a large store
It feels like a child whose parent just died unexpectedly
It feels like trying to drag your child out of a burning car that has just been smashed by a drunk driver
It feels like a soldier standing in a war zone as the lone survivor of a car bomb
It feels like a child hiding under a table covering her ears with eyes squinched closed as her drunk father beats her mother
It feels like being kidnapped at knife point, knocked unconscious, and waking up all alone and tied to a chair in a dark place
Being a survivor of extreme abuse feels like all these feels happening simultaneously
SILENCE
Round
And round
And round
Spiral down to depths beyond dead
It is a place for the Never Was who breathe
Sounds hang and echo
They are hollow and fall into the endless space
The atmosphere is void of pleasantries
Never Was tastes the horror of days gone by
Pain rages and claws at her
It grips her threatening to consume
A scream forms
It gathers strength
It makes its way up
And violently forces its way out
As silence
PONDER
Silence vomits out of our mouth
And confusion runs down our cheek
We inhale deeply: shame
As we violently ponder
What if?
How?
Why?
What does it matter?
IF I WASN’T SCARED I WOULD…
If I wasn’t scared, I would dance. We would dance with freedom feeling each and every tone from the music.
If I wasn’t scared, I would sing. We would sing a song that comes from within and harmonizes with all of nature.
If I wasn’t scared, I would hear. We would hear silence and symphonies, the earth and love.
If I wasn’t scared, I would paint. We would paint with passion, bold colors, and lots of depth of texture.
If I wasn’t scared, I would laugh. We would laugh from our belly till our lungs wheezed and our muscles ached, while wondering what was so funny.
If I wasn’t scared, I would ponder. We would ponder great and small things and the intricacies in between.
If I wasn’t scared, I would remember. We would remember all kinds of memorable moments with great detail.
If I wasn’t scared, I would speak. We would speak lots of words that came tumbling out from our thoughts, our heart, and our soul.
If I wasn’t scared, I would rest. We would rest swinging gently on a hammock strung between two trees overlooking the lake while the wind gently whispered its secrets.
If I wasn’t scared, I would sleep. We would sleep soundly and peacefully till we wakened refreshed.
If I wasn’t scared, I would love. We would love freely with reckless abandon and without regret.
If I wasn’t scared, I would believe. We would believe words had real meanings and not, perhaps the opposite of what you have said.
Fury
A pair of eyes stand passively defiant on a cliff of rocks with a tree growing out of it.
They look out on the vast body of water till the sky and water meet
The sound of the white waves crashing into the rocks is consuming in its varied, rhythmic pattern
The waves are speaking for the blackening sky
They proclaim the coming of the distant storm as a flash of light strikes them
The wind howls and makes everything solid, shift
Especially the cedar trees as they thrash to and fro
The sun’s brilliance is waning as it slips into darkness of night
In unison the earth yells:
Come
Come join us
We can feel you
We will speak your rage for you
You are not a freak
We know you
You are not too big
Or too much
We can hold you
We know your anguish
We were there
We are your witness
Come
Come find your peace in our fury
A knee lifts.
Ring
Ring
Weight shifts
Ring
Ring
Ring
“Hello?”
FASHIONED BY EVIL
Alone in a place so dark and as expansive as the universe
I do not even exist
“How can that be?” asks one who looks on, observes, and is free to leave
It is because this single being has been connected to evil.
The evil that exists, that has been from the beginning, and will continue to be until the end of time as we know it.
Connected not by choice or freedom of will.
But connected by event that rips through the skin and explodes the organs and lands on the soul like a meteor penetrating the earth.
Darkness rolls in like a total solar eclipse
Instead of sunbeams one feels the foul, repulsive, stench, chill their body into their non-existent core.
Contaminated
Speechless
Blank eyes stare back from hopelessness
Alone
Who can describe such evil
The weight crushes the bones and squeezes the oxygen out of every cell
The long night and day of the soul remains
Evil is consuming
It is coming and you should save yourself
But what about me?
I was fashioned in darkness by eternities evil
Hatred and rage created this shell
And it is contained only by a fragile thin layer of fabricated free will for social compliance.
After
Slow to move
Maybe we cannot
Horror
Cannot really see
Look around
Filth
Carnage
So much carnage
Smells
Pain
Outside pain lingers in the atmosphere
Inside pain registers
Shame
Jealous
Shame
Confusion
Guilt
Overwhelming guilt
And shame
Alone
Fleeting thoughts blow circuits in the brain
Half closed eyes crying dry tears
No thinking
No words
Nothing
Get up
Clean up
Move on
Shame
silence
Invisible
Crouching here encased by darkness, 1000 pairs of eyes stare mockingly at me.
I sense the barbs they breathe.
I am alone in the vast, dense, darkness; me and 1000 pairs of eyes.
When I struggle to lift my head I can still hear what I can no longer see: the bustle of humanity living in life.
I have stopped yelling for them.
My screams just echoed back from the wall of 1000 pairs of eyes.
Here is death.
I have longed.
I wanted.
Not wanting death or its eyes, but longed for life.
Life I hear.
Life I saw.
Instead, here I am alone with 1000 pairs of eyes looking back at me.
They mute me with the sound of their silence.
And as I lift my head weight drops it backwards, my mouth opening for a haunting scream that attempts to arise to proclaim: I am lost in death can you find me.
But the scream chokes me as it presents itself as their silence.
Will death consume me?
Does life even know I exist?
Can one who began life in death learn to live in life?
Can one learn how to scream without silence?
My head slowly lowers as 1000 pairs of eyes smile at me.
I feel their barbs inside of me
BY OURSELVES | ABOUT OURSELVES | FOR OURSELVES | FOR EACH OTHER | 